


Cocoa

by BoxofBones



Series: Brooklyn Girls [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha!Steve, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Dark!Steve, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, No use of y/n, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Reader Insert, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27372619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxofBones/pseuds/BoxofBones
Summary: His Omega smells like chocolate; rich, heady, enticing.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Brooklyn Girls [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000725
Comments: 11
Kudos: 172





	Cocoa

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write some nice, dark, Steve Rogers smut. Enjoy! If I missed tagging anything, please let me know.

The first time he smells it, Steve’s eyes roll back to half mast, and he can’t help but tilt his head up just a little to take it in. Heady, warm—like chocolate. Tony watches him with an amused expression on his face—maybe he can smell it too; after all, It’s steeped in the air so thick Steve can almost see it. 

“Mr. Rogers? Can you follow me please?” She’s tiny—a foot shorter than him at the very least. Her tone is authoritative, and though he chafes a little at being ordered about by so tiny an Omega, his amusement outweighs the indignation. 

The exam room is stark white, and though he can see the S.H.I.E.L.D designated doctors and nurses bustling around just beyond the privacy screen around them, it doesn’t bother him. He inhales again, drawing that rich, creamy scent into his nostrils, his pupils dilating _._

He watches her get everything ready; needles, test tubes, a thin rubber tourniquet. “I’m just going to check your vitals before we start, is that alright?” Her voice was soft, melodic. Soothing. 

“Of course, doll.” He grins as her throat moves almost imperceptibly, swallowing at his words. “I’m sure you know what you’re doing.” Her russet cheeks color as she swipes nervously at a lock of hair that has escaped her tight bun, an action Steve immediately recognizes as a nervous gesture. He flashes her a winning smile, and she fumbles her stethoscope a little as she lifts it to her ears. He turns so his back is facing her, and after a moment he feels butterfly-light touches against his skin as she slides his shirt up.

“This might be cold.” 

It is, when she presses the end of the tool against his warm flesh, but he doesn’t mind. It’s tempered with the pleasant weight of her hand holding it down, and the other gripping his shoulder to straighten his posture. “Deep breath, please?” She asks, and he obliges. He feels her lightly trace the outline of an old scar on his shoulder—given to him _before_ the serum. Then, a sharp intake of breath as she backs away from him, her voice tight. 

“Okay, all done. You can turn around now.” He turns to find her face still red, her eyes not meeting his. He wants to smirk knowingly at the Omega—he can scent her confused little spike of arousal from here—but he only looks at her calmly, the smile playing at the edges of his handsome mouth. 

  
  


“The doctor will be right in to see you,” She says before fleeing the room, leaving only that delicious scent behind. 

—

Next time, Steve goes down to the labs of his own accord. His results are exemplary, of course—he can’t get sick, can’t get hurt, he doesn’t even know _why_ Fury insists on keeping tabs on them like animals, but he pushes the thought out of his head upon entering the reception area. He doesn’t smell her today—not the same way as last time. He can scent that heady, chocolate smell in the air, but it’s light. 

Faded. 

The receptionist leans forward, confusion on her face. “Mr. Rogers? I don’t remember having an appointment for you today.”

He sniffs the air one more time disappointedly—she isn’t here. “No, I don’t have an appointment.” 

She raises an eyebrow before tapping one manicured nail against the desk. “How can we help you?” 

He leaves without saying anything, making his way to the elevator. 

—

It’s a month later when he finally scents her again. He’s in the training rooms, and the scent hits him like a fucking train—or maybe that was Bucky’s fist, slamming into the side of his face as he paused, sucking air greedily into his lungs as he smelled her for the first time in weeks. 

It takes a few minutes for Steve’s jaw to knit back together from the hit, but he’s already out of the gym and padding down the hallway on the bare soles of his feet as Bucky calls his name uselessly. His little Omega was back in the building, and he wasn’t going to squander the opportunity. 

It isn’t hard to find her, he follows the scent down to the locker rooms, just across the hallway from the labs. _I didn’t know the nurses changed down here._ He rarely uses them himself, preferring to shower and change at home. He inhales again— _fuck_ it’s strong.

“Yeah, probably drinks or something. I don’t know if I’ll make it, I’m kind of tired.” Her voice comes around the corner just before she does, her caramel colored curls loose around her face. She’s not in uniform today, plain black leggings adorning her shapely legs, and a loose, off shoulder t-shirt hanging from her shoulders. She sweeps her kinky hair out of her face, eyes widening as she sees him. “Oh.” 

Steve feels bristling irritation that _that_ is all she has to say to him, but he swallows it. Her companions are tittering behind their hands as they watch the interaction, but Steve ignores them. Her cheeks color as she stares down at the floor shyly, her little pink tongue darting out to wet her plump lips. “H-hi. Sorry, we’ll get out of your way…” He grasps her wrist gently, and her scent explodes around him. It’s all he can do _not_ to just push her head to the side and sink his teeth into her soft skin—but he resists, somehow. 

“No need.” He says smoothly, enjoying the little nervous glances she shoots her friends. “We’re all coworkers sharing this space together, after all.” The words are meant to soothe her, and they do. Steve sees her visibly relax, shoulders dropping as she releases a breath. He wonders how many Alphas have cornered her like this, and the thought makes his lip curl with disgust. Clearly they haven’t been successful—there are no bite marks at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, no scent of a male anywhere on her, which Steve is grateful for. 

It would be a pity to have to kill her mate. 

He releases her and steps aside with a flourish. “After you.” She laughs, a smile working its way onto her pretty mouth. 

“Well I’ll see you around, Mr. Rogers.” 

“Steve, please.” The way her eyes widen, and her hands grip the strap of her bag a little tighter sends blood racing straight to his cock. 

“Okay, Steve.” 

—

He knows her schedule now. 

Steve waits for her to arrive promptly at 8:15–she always does. His little Omega is nothing but punctual. She works the first two weeks of every month, all morning shifts. It isn’t hard for him to work out—and it helps that the employee rotation schedule is in the first drawer of the reception desk. 

Her car, a small, old model Toyota, pulls into the lot on the compound right on schedule, and Steve waits until she is walking up the stairs, phone in hand, before positioning himself just in front of her. 

She bumps into him, spilling coffee all over the two of them. 

“Shit! Oh, Mr. Rogers, I’m so sorry,” She exclaims, shoving her phone into the pocket of her nurses uniform. “I’m such an idiot, I didn’t even see you,” she laments, and Steve nods understandingly, patting her shoulder. 

“It’s okay, doll. Happens to the best of us.” He helps her pick up her papers and bag, before tossing the empty coffee cup into the trash can by the entrance. She looks down at herself, her clothing so soaked through that Steve can see the lacy outline of her bra. His nostrils flare, fists clenching at his sides. 

“I’m going to be late,” She laments, glancing at her watch. “I’m so sorry about...all this.” She gestures between them apologetically. Steve smiles winningly at her. 

“It’s really no trouble.” He leans against the door frame, gazing down at her. “But you know… I do take dates as compensation.” She laughs a little, playing with a loose strand of her hair. _She’s nervous._ She had no idea how _adorable_ it was when she did that, nibbling on her lower lip as she averted her gaze. Her rich, sweet scent turns only a _little_ sour at his question, tinged with her anxiety. 

“I’m so sorry Mr— _Steve_ ,” she corrects herself, taking a deep breath. “I just… I don’t date my coworkers.” She herself looks a little disappointed, but that doesn’t soothe the sting of her rejection. Steve fights to keep his expression neutral—happy—but inside, he’s fuming. _Who does she think she is?_

He laughs, though all he wants is to take her _right there_ and show her and everyone watching, exactly who she belongs to—but he simply smiles kindly down at her, nodding. “Of course, I’m sorry. That was unprofessional.” His apology seems to put her at ease, and she sighs with relief. 

“Thanks for understanding. I’m going to go try and find a spare uniform, I think.” She waves goodbye, and he watches her go, eyes narrowed. It’s only later, after he has had time to restructure his short term plan into something a little longer, that Steve forgives her. 

He can’t blame his Omega for her dating preferences—after all, there were plenty of other _unmated_ Alphas running around the building; it wouldn’t do for her to entertain them. That night, Steve waits for everyone to leave before he sneaks back into the building. It isn’t hard, he has all the access codes, and the night guards are all friends of his. He makes his way to the locker rooms, as though he’d come back for a late night workout. 

When the guards head back upstairs, Steve walks down the long hallway to the laboratory. The waiting room is dark, but Steve picks his way around the chairs quietly, before seating himself at the desk. 

It’s not hard to find her information, stored alphabetically under her name.

He grinned upon seeing her address. A Brooklyn girl—of course she was. His chest swelled a little with pride as he scanned the paper.

“I’ll be seeing you _real_ soon, doll.” He murmurs, slipping the file back into the cabinet. 

—

She’s surprised when he comes into the lab again, waiting for her in the exam room when she pulls back the privacy curtain. 

“Hey, you.” 

Her shapely eyebrows rise up in shock before she smiles. “Hello, Steve. How can I help?” Steve smiles kind of wanly at her, before leaning onto the table. He makes sure to stoop his shoulders, cross his arms. She eyes him with concern, and he sighs before speaking. 

“I’m just having some trouble sleeping.” He says, shrugging. “I was hoping maybe you all could help me with that.” _Mostly you._ It wasn’t _all_ a lie—he _hadn’t_ been sleeping. Mainly because he’d been beating his dick raw thinking about her, in an effort _not_ to go straight to her apartment and sink in slow and deep. 

Steve was also banking on her having little to no knowledge of how the serum worked, and he could tell by the clear concern on her pretty face that his assumption was true. Her eyebrows furrowed with worry as she patted his knee reassuringly.

“I know how that feels, I get insomnia a lot.” She replies, and Steve nods. Of course she does—insomnia is a common heat symptom. “I’ll go grab Doctor Thompson, one sec—” Steve catches her hand as she turns to leave, grasping it gently. 

“Well, what do _you_ think I should do?” He asks, cocking his head. He doesn’t want to let go of her, her skin feels so soft, so smooth under his fingers, but he forces himself to, sticking his hands in his pockets. She looks surprised again, her full lips parting slightly. 

“M-me? Well… You, well I guess you could try melatonin. T-they make gummies, um… I can bring you a bottle from Costco…” She was rambling now, wringing her hands adorably as she thought. _Fuck_ he wanted her. He inhaled deeply, allowing her to keep talking so he could scent her again. 

“That’s much better than a prescription, I think. And I like gummies, that helps too,” Steve says, laughing. She looks relieved, genuinely glad to have offered him a solution he likes—even if nothing is _really_ wrong. “Bring some for me tomorrow?” He asks, and she nods eagerly. 

“Totally.” 

—

Breaking into her apartment is disgustingly easy—so much so that Steve worries for her safety. He’s been watching the house for weeks now, and he knows not only her schedule, but her roommates too, and it isn’t hard to sneak around drunk people, after all. 

Her apartment is practically soaked with her scent, oozing up out of the furniture, the carpets—if Steve could get drunk, it would have felt something like this. He wrinkles his nose in distaste as the loud sound of her roommates fucking reaches his ears, immediately followed by a shameful burst of jealousy. He wants to be deep inside his Omega too, wants to hear her crying and begging as he sinks in balls deep. Steve quashes the jealousy with the notion that he’ll know soon enough. 

He’s hard before he finds his way into her room, his cock pushing hard against his jeans. He cups it, groaning silently as he enters her room. If the apartment was dripping with her scent, it was nothing compared to her bedroom, where it was like a fine layer coating every single thing. 

She moans softly in her sleep, shifting. She smells him, probably. His scent is familiar now, not enough to wake her, but enough for her to take notice of his presence, even asleep.

His beautiful little Omega, spread out before him like a four course meal—Steve wants nothing more than to partake in her, trap her on his knot and make _sure_ she’s bred _right—_ but he doesn’t. He watches her sleep, and palms himself through his jeans while he imagines how _tight_ she’ll be on his cock, imagines how she’ll look all swollen up with his seed and wants to bust right there. 

He waits for her to wake up before he makes his exit. She doesn’t notice him through the crack in her closet door as she clamors out of bed clumsily, stretching and yawning. His eyes rake over her form, greedily dissecting and storing every detail for later examination. She has a tiny starburst tattoo on her left hip, and a mole on the inside of her right knee, he can see those as she stretches. 

The tiny shorts she’s wearing barely cover the plump swell of her ass, and Steve feels his mouth water as she makes her way out of the bedroom, likely to the bathroom. He waits until he hears water running to ease the door open. He stops on his way out of her bedroom window, spying the hamper in the corner of the room. 

He opens it, and moans audibly as her scent washes over him. He digs through the hamper, and the instant his hand closes around the scrap of fabric, he knows what it is. 

When she comes back into the room, she finds her window wide open, and hamper spilled over onto the floor. He watches her from the adjacent building’s fire escape, watching as first she runs to the window, looking out and around wildly. She doesn’t see him as she slams it shut, her eyes wide and panicked. 

Later, when Steve hears her walking out of the locker room, she is nervously telling her friends about a possible break in. Steve forces concern onto his face, and steps out of the training room in time to hear her recount the story. 

“I mean… it’s definitely possible. I just… I never leave my window open that wide, you know? And then the front door was unlocked too…”

“Someone break into your place?” He asks, and she looks up at him anxiety and fear souring her sweet scent. She looks so worried, and her lips press together into a thin line. 

“Maybe? I dunno. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.” 

He puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. “It’s not silly to be safe.” He says seriously, and she looks relieved. 

“Yeah, you should change your locks!” One of her friends pipes up, and though Steve considers moving to silence her, he tempers the urge. He can use this. 

“I’m not handy, you know that,” She says mournfully. “And the landlord will take _weeks_ to get to it, I know he will.” 

“Hey, I can change your locks.” Steve volunteers himself quickly. He’s never felt so greedy before, he doesn’t want to share her at all, any part of her. Not her affection, attention, her time—he wants it all for himself. And as she stares up at him gratefully and her sweet mouth moves to speak her gratitude, Steve smiles back. 

It costs almost nothing to copy keys.

—

Steve brings the drink to his lips, but he isn’t tasting it. He isn’t sure which one of her friends invited her out this evening, but he wants to find them and end them. When she’s his, Steve decides, she will only be allowed to wear that dress when he’s with her—and when she’s wearing _his_ mark on that slender throat, so there’s no question of her ownership. 

He narrows his eyes at the scene before him, gripping the glass so tight it shatters. He ignores the bartender as he rushes over.

“Are you okay? Sir? Sir?” Steve is too busy watching her dance to answer. His wounds close up in seconds, his body pushing the rogue shards of glass out and into his palm. He empties his palm onto the bar, mouth curling into an angry sneer as another man brings her a drink. 

Thus far, she’s only been dancing with her girlfriends, and even that makes him jealous, but it’s acceptable. This, however… Steve watches as the man brushes his fingers along the back of her hand, and she giggles, taking a long sip of her drink. Steve clenches his jaw so hard he thinks he can hear the bones creak. 

He can’t remember being this angry at someone who _wasn’t_ trying to kill him, he feels like he’s going to break the bar he’s grabbing it so hard. She looks beautiful tonight, her hair in a curly halo around her head, and her face done up with makeup. She doesn’t normally wear it—she doesn’t need it—but Steve grudgingly admits it looks good on her tonight, bright gold eyeshadow against her lids, and her lashes long and embellished. 

She finishes her drink, draining the glass and dabs at her lips with a finger to catch any stray liquid. The man leans in to say something, and she nods, laughing. Steve’s blood is boiling—it’s like he’s watching her piss their future away, one fucking drink at a time. He circles her waist with one arm, and Steve loses it, pushing his stool away from the counter with a sharp squeak. The music is loud and blaring in his ears as he pushes his way through the crowded dance floor. 

A young man backs into him, but Steve pushes him off singlemindedly, focused on reaching her. He couldn’t see any of her other friends anymore, just her and _him._ Steve stands off to the side, just close enough to hear their conversation. 

“You want another drink?” He asks, yelling to be heard over the music. She shrugs. 

“Probably not, I have to get up tomorrow,” she yells back. The other Alpha laughs. 

“Come on, just one more! Then we’ll get out of here, I’ll take you home, okay?” 

His beautiful, _trusting_ Omega looks conflicted for a moment before agreeing. He can see the thought patterns crossing her face—she’s already had more drinks than Steve thought was appropriate, and by the look on her face she knew it too. But she nods anyway, and he sets off to the bar. Steve watches her check her phone, her face lit up by the bright screen. He waits one more moment before following the man back to the bar. 

“Gin and tonic.”

Steve settles against the bar next to him. 

“You with her?” He asks, nodding towards his Omega. The other Alpha chuckles. 

“With her? Nah. I mean, maybe later, if you know what I mean.” He waggles his eyebrows at Steve, who is barely restraining the urge to wrap his hands around the other man’s throat and squeeze until he stopped struggling. “Cute little unmated thing like that should be walking around with an escort.” The other man’s hand passes over the glass meant for his Omega, and Steve _almost_ doesn’t see the fine powder settle onto the surface of the drink before dissolving quickly. 

Steve feels the cheap plywood of the bar top splinter in his hand. “You have a smoke?” He asks, and the other man nods. When Steve comes back in from the alleyway, stale cigarette smoke on his breath, the other Alpha does not return with him. Steve wipes his bloody knuckles on his jeans as he walks towards her, holding a fresh glass of water. 

“Hi, doll.” 

“Steve?!” She whirls around at the sound of his voice, a little unsteady on her high heels. She takes a step back, shocked. “What are you doing here?” She looks around, confused. He tries to put her at ease with a smile, but it only barely works as she eyes him warily, albeit drunkenly. 

“I come here all the time.” He didn’t. 

“R-really? I never thought this was your kinda place…” She slurs. “Where’s Sean?” 

“He won’t be joining us, doll.” Steve says tightly. “I brought this for you.” He hands her the drink, and she sips it warily. She’s drunk enough not to question him _too_ much, but she knows _something_ isn’t right. She looks surprised at the water, but when she tries to put it down, Steve shakes his head and tips the glass back up to her lips, forcing her to finish the whole thing. 

“Sean’s gone.” She repeats his words like she’s tasting them in her own mouth, trying to see if they’re true or not, but her brain can’t _quite_ arrive at a conclusion she’s satisfied with. She looks a little disappointed, too, and Steve wishes he could go outside and drive his fist into Sean’s face three or four more times until his head is nothing more than a red smear behind the dumpster—but he doesn’t. “I… I’m confused,” she admits, putting the glass on a table nearby. She wobbles a little and Steve steadies her. 

“I know, baby. Do you know what was in your drink?” He asks, cupping her chin in one large hand. Her wide eyed gaze is intoxicating, as she stares up at him, pupils dilated. She shakes her head. “Sean gave you mickies, babe.” Sean is alive—unconcious, but breathing, a situation Steve plans to remedy _after_ he’s possessed the little Omega before him. 

“M-mickies?”

“He drugged you sweetheart.” 

He can tell the young Alpha already dosed her once, her scent carries a strange taint, and he growls, pulling her close and burying his nose at her throat. “Oh baby. He got you good.” She whimpers, and he can feel hot tears soaking through his shirt. Her scent is saturating the air around them, and Steve is panting, trying hard not to just take her into the bathroom and fuck her there.

“I wanna go home.” She murmurs, and he hears it over the music. 

“Let’s go.” He never wanted her in that club to begin with, and so Steve can’t help but feel righteous triumph as he helps her to his car. Her eyes are bleary, and she can’t stop giggling at every little thing. He can barely get her to keep her jacket on, she’s so feverish. “Stay here, doll.” He says, strapping her into the passenger seat. She leans back against it, eyes sliding almost closed. 

What Steve _really_ wants is to back his car over the unconcious body of the Alpha he’s hidden behind the dumpster, but instead he walks back into the club, stopping when he sees the bouncer. 

“There’s a man behind the building, in the parking lot. He’s been drugging girls here.” He says matter of factly. The bouncer raises an eyebrow. “Call the cops.” Steve leaves, not stopping when the man tries to ask his name. When they get back to her apartment, she’s too gone to notice that he unlocks her door without her help, and leads her straight to her bedroom, asking no questions. 

He deposits her wriggling form onto her own bed, chuckling when she squeals in surprise. She noisily kicks off her heels before flopping onto her stomach, groaning. Steve’s breath catches in her throat as she reaches behind herself, trying to unzip her dress. It’s like she’s forgotten he’s even there, and Steve wonders just how far he can go—what she’ll remember in the morning. 

“Help.” She says, rising up onto her knees, facing away from him. _Don’t._ She’s drunk, and she’s _high_ and she can’t possibly know just how much she’s testing him, sweeping her mountain of curls aside to expose the back of her neck to him, motioning at the zipper. 

His hands move without his permission, caressing her smooth shoulders and tugging the zipper down slowly, revealing inch after precious inch of her luscious skin. Steve wants to mark it so badly—not just her throat, her whole body, pepper her in bruises and bite marks so that she can’t hide she’s his, ever. He groans, tracing his fingertips along the line of exposed flesh. She’s so fucking _soft_. 

“Thank you,” She says sheepishly, but when she tries to turn, he holds her in place, his breath puffing against her neck. 

“I’m not finished, Omega.” Her skin is hot under his lips as he laves his tongue across it, tasting her. He wants to drag his teeth down the skin and split it, but he doesn’t, simply sucking hard, hard enough to bruise. She moans softly, and Steve feels his cock throb, pressing insistently against the seam of his jeans. He parts the fabric of her dress, pushing it almost off her shoulders. He sneers. “No bra, of course.” She whimpers as he drags his nails down her back. 

“I can’t wear one with this dress,” She says confusedly, her drug and alcohol addled brain struggling to keep up. “It shows in the front.” Her voice is almost childlike in its innocence. 

“All dressed up like a whore,” he breathes. His tone is gentle, and his soft touches don’t waver, but she flinches all the same, skin flushing with embarrassment. At the same time, her scent swells around him, and he grins against her. 

“Don’t call me that!” 

“No bra.” He pulls the loose fabric of her dress away from her back a bit, glancing down at the pronounced curve of her sweet ass. “Barely any panties.” He turns her around easily, cupping her chin in his hands so her wide eyes are looking only at him. “Who were you dressed for, doll?” He doesn’t give her the chance to answer as he crushes her lips against his, snarling. He’s waited so long, so _fucking long_ , and he doesn’t want to wait anymore. 

She whimpers under his rough treatment, but he can scent her, he knows her body is responding to him, he can smell her growing arousal, even as her conscious mind tries to rebel against her body’s orders. He’s drowning in her scent; sucking her tongue roughly into his mouth as he swallows every sound greedily. She smells so good, so _ripe—_ and Steve’s eyes snap open as he realizes why.

His perfect, sweet little Omega is going into heat. 

Steve reluctantly pulls himself away from her, almost shaking with need as he watches her sit back on the bed, dazed. He wants her now, so badly, and he almost wants to throw caution to the wind and fuck her anyway, but… if he waits, he can _mate_ her. Have her _forever_. The thought is appealing—after all, he does want her to be his, only his. What better way? 

—

She doesn’t remember her night at the club. Steve knows this, because the next time he sees her, on his way back from the training room, he asks her if she’s done anything fun recently. 

“Not really. I don’t think having someone carry your drunk body home counts as fun,” She replies, embarrassed. Steve pats her shoulder comfortingly. 

“We’ve all had those nights.” 

The uptick in her scent tells him he has a week—maybe a week and a half until she’s ready, but he doesn’t have to wait much longer. His opportunity comes the following week, when she’s scheduled to work at the labs—and doesn’t show up. He can hear her colleagues gossiping about her absence in the lounge, tittering amongst themselves as though no one could hear them. 

“Why isn’t she on suppressants? I mean it’s not like they’re not safe.” 

“Well, I mean it _is_ a super high dose of hormones. Plenty of people don’t take them, you know.” 

Steve smirks. He’s never felt luckier in his life. 

When he unlocks the door to her apartment, he is greeted by silence. Her roommates are out—probably for the next few days until her heat is finished. Her scent is heavy, almost coppery, and the air inside is thick with it. Steve closes the door behind him, cupping himself shamelessly through his jeans as he licks his lips. She’s fucking _calling_ to him, to his Alpha, her scent a dizzying cocktail of pheromones meant to entice her mate into planting a baby firmly in her belly. But she didn’t _have_ a mate. 

Steve grins.

Well, not yet, anyway. 

He finds her in her bedroom, the fan on full blast as she tries to cool herself down. The air in the room is so thick with the scent of her musk he can almost taste it as she writhes on the bed. She hasn’t noticed him yet, her eyes screwed shut as her delicate hand works between her legs. The sheets and blankets have all been kicked off in her frenzy, and Steve watches amusedly as she grinds the vibrator between her thighs.

She scents him after a few moments of silence, her bleary eyes flying open. He can see her struggling to gather her thoughts and piece them together coherently. “S-Steve? How did you..?” He leans down to caress her face, and he can see the conflict. His little Omega wants to press her face into his palm and inhale his scent until she can’t smell anything else, she wants to push him off—but Steve knows which one she’s going to pick; after all he isn’t _really_ giving her a choice. 

Her lip trembles as she looks up at him. “But you can’t—you can’t be here, Steve!” He knows this has to be hard for her, inhaling his scent while her body trembles with a need that she can’t _quite_ fulfill on her own. Her body _knows_ it needs his knot, needs it more than she needs anything else, Steve just needs to make her give in and see it too. He chuckles softly at her exclamation, leaning down to brush his lips against her forehead. “I’m-I’m-I’m in heat!” She stammers, and he simply nods knowingly. 

“Oh I know, doll. You need it so bad.” He says softly, pressing another kiss to her trembling mouth. He can see how slippery her grip on reason is, her heat cycle threatening to overwhelm her. “How many years has it been like this?” He asks, resting one knee on the bed as he swings the other across to trap her thighs between his. She whimpers. “How long has it been since you got knotted like you need, doll?” A high pitched whine escapes her throat at his words. 

Steve chuckles, reaching down to remove her hand from her shorts. It’s still there, holding the vibrator to her swollen clit. He sucks her juices off of her fingers, nipping them with his teeth and moaning at the taste. 

“I haven’t… I mean, I never—” Steve’s eyes widen at her admission, and his cock grows impossibly harder as he grinds it against her belly. She’s never had an Alpha before. He growls, silencing her rambling with a forceful kiss, nibbling hard on her juicy lips. So fucking perfect, his little Omega. She would do so well for him, have so many pups… And he would take such good care of her. He would make sure they never wanted for anything. 

“Oh _fuck_ doll. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting,” he laments, and when she opens her mouth to say something, but Steve isn’t interested in her denials. He doesn’t need to hear falsehoods from her lips, not when he can _smell_ how right he is. He traps both of her tiny wrists with one large hand above her head as he slides the other one up her shirt. “Don’t know how bad I need you,” His voice is little more than a harsh growl. 

She arches her back, pushing up into him as she gasps. “It hurts, Steve.” She whimpers, big brown eyes wet as she stares up at him. Her face is flushed and sweaty, eyes fever bright. “I hurt inside…” It’s too much for her now, him being so close, and not inside her like she needs. He’s glad he interrupted her before she could cum—she’ll be that much more desperate for relief. 

Steve pulls the little bullet vibrator out of her shorts, tossing it behind him somewhere. “I know, baby.” He’s spent the past eight months waiting for this, and the moment is finally here. Steve isn’t sure what he wants to do first, he’s spoiled for choice. She whines again, breaking him from his reverie. He can feel the muscles in her belly clenching and releasing under his palm, her body eagerly encouraging her to breed. 

He pulls her shorts down, fingers tangling in the elastic fabric. He groans loudly as her scent grows even stronger, washing over him in waves. Her breath catches in her throat as he tears them off, the plastic snapping against her skin.

“Steve, we can’t, you shouldn’t—” He growls against her throat, and she quiets instantly, her body going rigid in his arms. Oh _yes_ . _This_ is why he loves her. Submitting just for him. 

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Omega. That’s _my_ job.” He snarls, catching the skin of her throat in his teeth and biting down hard. She squeals loudly and bucks. Her mind is cloudy from her heat, and Steve knows he only has to push just a little further. “You’re so wet, doll.” He drags his fingers through her folds and she shudders, eyes rolling. “Why are you fighting it, baby?” He kisses the ugly purple bruise he’s left on her throat as he releases her hands. 

He pulls her shirt up over her head, and she’s so gone that she lets him, her entire body shivering at the rush of air. “I know you’re a smart girl, my little Omega,” he drawls, kissing a slow path down her collarbone and stops between her breasts. “You know what your body wants. What it _needs_ .” Steve squeezes one of her nipples between his fingers, before he lowers his head to suck it into his mouth. “What it was _fucking made for._ ” 

He continues his downward path over her ribs, dipping his tongue into her belly button before he presses his face against her mound, inhaling deeply as he growls. She tastes so _fucking good_ , and he can’t help but suck her engorged clit between his lips, roilling it against the roof of his mouth. She cries out brokenly as her hips shake. She’s so wet that the sheets beneath her shapely hips are wet too, saturated with her juices. She’s begging now, and when Steve glances up at her face, her mouth is open and panting, her back arched and eyes open, staring unseeing at the ceiling. 

He eases one thick finger into her, and she squeezes around him, pulsing. “You’re so tight, baby.” He says quietly, pumping it into her gently as she writhes. “Ah, ah. No rushing me, Omega.” He chastises her, swatting her on her hip hard enough to leave a red splotch. 

“I don’t know, I want—I need—” Her words are jumbled, slurred. 

“I know what you need.” He curls his finger inside of her and she screams, her legs shaking as her body goes limp against him. He releases his grip on her, and she sinks down into the mattress, her eyes closed and breathing shallow, but even. Steve doesn’t waste any time stripping out of his own clothes, tearing some of them in his haste. It doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters but _this._

It’s only when he’s positioning himself at her entrance does she seem to come to, her little hands pushing uselessly at his shoulders as his leaking cock brushes against her folds. 

“No, Steve, wait!”

“No.” His answer startles her into silence, and he pushes inside, his head lolling back as he thrusts shallowly, the head of his cock moving inside her. “You’re _mine_ , baby. No more waiting.” He sinks in a little further, smiling as her eyes go wide, pupils dark and dilated. He can feel her walls fluttering around him, sucking at him. Even though she’s fighting him so hard—poor thing—he can tell she’s losing. Her hips are pushing against him, trying to force him in all the way, even as her mouth forms poorly worded excuses. “No more games.” 

He seats himself all the way inside, and a ragged moan tears from his throat. It’s better. It’s better than he ever fucking thought it would be—she’s so _tight_ and fucking _perfect._ He slides out slowly, and she reaches for him with shaking fingers scrabbling against his strong arms and shoulders. 

“No, no, Alpha, please—” She’s pleading, digging her nails into his arms. He holds her hips down easily with one hand as he thrusts back in, and her pleas turn instantly into a hoarse moan. 

“This is what you need,” he says, bringing her hips up to meet his roughly as he loses control. “Isn’t it, Omega?” She’s squeezing around him so tight it’s almost painful, her body milking him like it was made for him. He punctuates every word with a sharp snap of his hips, the head of his cock hitting hard against her cervix. “Tell. Me.” 

“I n-need it so bad, Alpha!” She cries, arching her back as she tries to force his cock even deeper into her own pussy. “Your knot, I want it, want it so bad!” Her adorable begging devolves into helpless whines as he lifts her leg, wrapping it around his own waist and lays into her. 

He’s so deep inside her and it’s still not enough. He wants—no, he _needs—_ her to be full of him, full of his scent, his seed, his _pups._ Steve leans back up onto his knees, his hands finding the soft flesh of her ass as he lifts her onto his lap. Her little body seems to fit so well against his as he fucks up into her, growling as she wraps her arms around his neck. 

“That’s it, baby.” He says lowly, lifting her and pulling her down onto his cock. She tightens up around him, and he can feel her body working up to another orgasm. “I have a present for you, doll,” He can feel his cock swelling at the base, his balls tightening. “You begged _so_ pretty for Alpha’s knot,” he says, dipping his head down to suck again at the dark bruise on her throat. “You’re going to get it.” 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes—” She comes hard, her whole body going rigid and shaking as he fucks her through it, curses spilling from his lips as he thrusts up and holds her down, his cock shooting rope after rope of hot cum into her clenching pussy. He’s stuck fast now, and it feels almost _too_ good inside her. She’s panting against him, her eyes open but blank and unseeing as he sits on the edge of the bed with her in his lap, panting. . 

She almost falls asleep like that, trapped on his knot, her cunt still trembling with the aftershocks of their coupling, and Steve strokes her back with sweaty, trembling fingers. But before his Omega can rest, he needs one more thing from her. 

“Don’t sleep yet, doll.” She whines, shaking her head. “I know, baby. You’re so sleepy.” This time she nods, looking up at him with a confused, frustrated expression. He strokes her head as it lays on his chest, toying with her hair between his fingers. “One more thing. Sit up a little for me, doll.” He leans up, and sweeps the hair away from her throat. “That’s a good girl.” He holds her head with one hand as he sinks his teeth into her throat, moaning as her coppery blood floods his mouth. She jerks in his arms and cries out, tightening around his still hard cock as she comes apart for a third time. Steve moans, feeling himself jerk inside her as he does too, his seed leaking out around his knot and dripping down to the sheets beneath them. 

He stays like that for a moment, licking at the bloody ring of teeth marks. He lays back down in the bed, with her caged in his arms, and stuck on his cock. _This is heaven._ She wriggles a little before she settles down, her breathing slow and even as she rests against him. He reaches up to gingerly prod at the bite with a single finger, he can feel the mating gland underneath, swollen and throbbing from the bite, and he smiles, still tasting the tang of her blood on his tongue, laden with a dizzying mix of her hormones. She hadn’t bitten him back, but there would be more than enough time for that later. 

After all, they had all the time in the world now. Steve would _die_ before he released her. She might fight him a bit at first, but he is certain she’ll get over it. 

And even if she doesn’t, he’s more than willing to wait. 


End file.
